I'm a writer! Officially! Well, kinda

I saw an ad for a writer, so I actually made my first writer's resume. In my cover letter, I thought about what I could say to make me more interesting more appealing. We know I don't need to be any more interesting.

Anyway, just for kicks and giggles, I googled my African soft furred rat page.

Google Returns for the rats...

The 2nd link down? That's flippin' MINE. MINE. I included that in the cover letter, some smug comment about how a current search of the Internet for the page revealed mine at #2 out of

hits with lots of zeros behind it.

I may never get this job of my dreams. It's an Internet ad, so who knows if it truly exists? But somewhere, in that process, I wrote something that mattered. Not only the page for the softies, but I listed my skills on that resume. I included my rejection letter in my skills. It's bravery, of a sort, to put myself out there, just like putting that manuscript in a box and mailing it. I already e-mailed the resume, and realized that there was something not grammatically incorrect, but I used the wrong word.

Doesn't matter, to me, at this moment.

I know what I am.

I know what I can do.

I am interested in anything I don't know and want to find more details about what I already do.

I want to be able to start an intelligent conversation with a goatherd, a prison inmate, a toothbrush maker, or a retired railroad engineer. In order to do that, one must have a basic knowledge, a springboard, to at least know what kind of questions to ask to get the fullest out of the conversation.

I know I can do that with a lot of people, but not universally...yet. I'm working on it!

My ego is celebrating. I may never see one of my books get in a binding, but I'm #2 out of a million--for something I wrote.

Not quite one in a million, but close.